


The Bucket List

by ashfalldown



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Doctor Derek Hale, Doctor/Patient, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:51:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3122567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashfalldown/pseuds/ashfalldown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has cancer and a list of things he wants to do before he kicks it. Derek has a doctorly responsibility to not let his new patient do anything stupid without medical supervision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay just straight up I know absolutely nothing about the medical/cancer side of this fic, and google is great but not entirely helpful so there's like a ninety-six percent chance I messed up probably approximately all of the medical stuff so just kind of... overlook that, if you can, feel free to correct anything you know is wrong, etc, otherwise please enjoy

“Stiles, you’re dying.”

Stiles stood in his bedroom, staring into the mirror as he repeated the words, over and over again until they’d lost their meaning. He was dying, and there wasn’t a thing anybody could do about it. No matter how many doctors his dad dragged him to, how many favours he’d had to call in, the results never changed. He had cancer, it was terminal, and nobody seemed very positive about his chances of seeing the new year.

He’d accepted it by now. His father hadn’t.

Through some kind of miracle - Stiles preferred to think of it as a miracle, didn’t want to think about what his dad had had to do for this opportunity - Stiles had snagged an appointment with Doctor Hale, apparently some kind of cancer specialist wizard. Although he had no idea what this new doctor could do for him that five others hadn’t been able to, Stiles would humour his dad while he still could. While a part of him that just wished his dad would accept the situation, and focus on the time they still had rather than trying to bargain for more, Stiles knew that it wasn’t going to happen. His father was determined not to lose him, and it wasn’t as if Stiles would be doing any different if their positions had been reversed.

“Stiles!” the Sheriff called. “We don’t want to be late, hurry up.”

He sighed as he jammed his feet into his sneakers. “Coming!” He found the mirror one last time on his way out the door. “Stiles,” he told himself again. “You’re dying.”

* * *

Derek was in his office, taking a well deserved lunch break when Peter barged in, unannounced as always.

“You know, I closed that door for a reason,” Derek said tiredly as Peter sat down opposite him. “It’s so I can eat without interruptions. Specifically, interruptions from you.”

Peter just grinned at him in response.

Derek sighed as he leant over the desk to shove his uncle’s feet off his desk. “What do you want?” he asked, massaging his temples. Peter had a very special way of giving him a headache just by being in his presence.

“Just wanted to remind you about the Sheriff’s kid,” Peter told him, returning his feet to their resting position on his nephew’s desk. “His appointment’s in half an hour.”

“I’m aware,” Derek said. “I’m aware of all of my appointments, even the ones you make without speaking to me first.” He was still unimpressed with the fact Peter had agreed to take this case on without his approval.

Peter shrugged, entirely unapologetic. “It couldn’t hurt to have the Sheriff owe us a favour.”

“Owe you a favour, you mean,” Derek said disapprovingly. He was well aware of what his uncle got up to after business hours, and having the Sheriff owe him was certainly something Peter could use.

“Just make sure you’re there,” Peter said, swinging his legs off the desk and pushing himself out of his chair. “I’d hate for you to disappoint him.”

“I’ll be there,” Derek told him. “I always am. Now can I finish eating?”

“Who’s stopping you?” Peter asked innocently as he sauntered out the door. Derek could hear him laughing as he made his way down the hall.

He groaned. At least once a day Peter did something that reminded him what a terrible mistake it had been to go into business with him, but there had been no other way for him to afford to build this clinic. As irritating as his uncle often - always - was, Derek’s dislike of him was far outweighed by his desire to help people. He sighed as he finished off what was left of last night’s Chinese, cleaned up his mess, and headed into the clinic area.

“Isaac?”

The boy behind the desk looked up from the computer. “Yeah?”

“Can you get me the notes for Stilinski?” he asked.

Isaac nodded, rummaging through the filing cabinet until he found the right folder. “Anything else?” he asked as he handed it over to Derek, who shook his head.

“That’s all,” he said. “Send them down to Exam Room B when they show up.”

“You got it,” Isaac called after his bus as he strode down the hall.

* * *

As he pored over the patient notes, Derek couldn’t see why he was being forced to take this case. This Stilinski guy had seen five doctors already, and they’d all made the same conclusion. The cancer was terminal. He’d be dead in a matter of months. Sure, Derek had a great track record, but he wasn’t a miracle worker. He couldn’t see anything more that he could do.

He was still staring down at the papers, trying to find something, anything that somebody had overlooked, when the knock came at the door.

“Come in,” he called, settling back into his chair.

The door swung open slightly, and Derek was surprised to see the person who shuffled through it. He’d been so invested in the sickness, in learning the ins and outs of the cancer, he’d completely overlooked the age of his new patient. His eyes flicked subtly down to the papers in front of him. Nineteen.

Regaining his professional air, Derek cleared his throat as he got to his feet. “You must be - ” He glanced down at the file again. While he did know the name of the boy, he wasn’t entirely sure how to pronounce it. “Er…”

“Stiles,” the boy said, clearly used to this kind of thing. He took the hand Derek offered and shook it easily. “Call me Stiles.”

Derek nodded. “Stiles. I’m Doctor Hale. Please, take a seat.”

Stiles did as instructed. As he watched the other man return to his own seat, he silently thanked whichever deity had seen fit to give him a hot doctor this time around.

“So I’ve been looking over your patient notes,” Derek began, getting straight to business. “You’ve seen five doctors already?”

Stiles nodded.

“And it says here they’ve all said the same thing?” he checked.

Stiles nodded again. “Cancer, terminal, don’t make plans to attend New Years parties,” he said, ticking the items off on long fingers.

“And if they’ve all had the same diagnosis, you’ve come to me because…?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Because my dad is determined not to believe the other five doctors, and I can’t bring myself to say no to him,” he said simply. “He thinks you have a good shot at helping me, and who am I to refuse?”

Derek was momentarily taken aback by his honesty. He’d asked the same question of every patient he saw as a way of gauging where they were emotionally, in terms of dealing with their sickness. Most told him they’d come because he was the best, because they were hoping he could give them more time - if not cure them. He’d never met somebody who had accepted their sickness so readily, not until now.

“Okay,” he said, clearing his throat again. “Then let’s get this started. We’re just going to do a few standard tests to start off with, so I can see for myself what we’re dealing with here.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Stiles said, with the ease of someone who had been through this too many times already. “Where do you want me?”

Derek led him to the back of the room. “Just take a seat up there,” he told him as he walked over the sink to wash his hands. Stiles obliged.

“So,” Stiles he said as Derek walked over to him, unable to stay quiet. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Doing what?” Derek asked as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and set about attending to his patient.

“You know,” Stiles said. “Doctoring.” When Derek didn’t reply, he pressed on. “Because you seem really young, that’s all. My other doctors were all a lot older, and you’re… not,” he finished lamely. He wondered if it was obvious he was trying to figure out how old the hot doctor was. Not that it would matter if he was a respectable dating age, Stiles thought, seeing as he was due to die soon.

“Would you prefer to see an older doctor?” Derek asked, not looking at Stiles as he concentrated on taking his blood. “I can refer you to someone else, if my age makes you uncomfortable.”

“What? No,” Stiles said, a little too quickly. “I mean,” he recovered, now trying to act casual. “I… you’re fine, I just… I was just wondering.” He was babbling.

Derek’s mouth quirked, amused. “Three years,” he said. “I’ve been doing this for three years.”

Stiles tried not to gape. “Three years?” he asked. “That’s it?”

Derek shrugged. “Nearly four.”

“But you’re… you’re like a cancer miracle worker. Three years?”

“I’m good at what I do,” Derek answered. “Really good. Stop moving.”

“Maybe my dad was right about you,” Stiles muttered as he stilled. “Cancer wizard.”

Derek laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, cleaning up the exam station. “You can get down now.”

Stiles jumped down from the chair. “Now what?”

“Now,” Derek replied. “You’re going to get some scans done, and then you can go home.”

“Really?” Stiles asked.

Derek nodded. “You’re not in any pain, are you? Not feeling anything out of the ordinary?”

Stiles shook his head. “Nope.”

“Then you can leave after the scans. I want to take some time to really go over them, try and see if there’s anything any of your other doctors might have missed, and there’s no reason for you to wait around for that, unless you want to.”

Yes, Stiles wanted to say. Let me be around you. But the idea of sticking around in this very, well, clinical place gave him the creeps. He shook his head.

“Alright,” Derek said. “Then let’s get these scans done.”

 

He dropped Stiles off at one of the other exam rooms, leaving him in Boyd’s very capable hands.

“Did your other doctors prescribe anything for you?” he asked Stiles before he left.

“Yeah,” Stiles said.

“And that’s working for you? No side effects?”

Stiles shook his head. “No. I mean, yeah, it’s working fine.”

“Okay, so for now I’m going to get you to keep taking that, recommended dosage, business as usual. I’ll ring you once we’ve gotten all your results back, and we can reassess what direction we want to go in.”

We, Stiles thought. The doctor was already talking like they were a team.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” the doctor told Boyd, shooting Stiles a parting smile before returning to his office.

* * *

Even with the rush he put on Stiles’ results, it was three days before Derek heard anything back. His heart sank as he looked over the papers before him, reading and rereading them until his eyes hurt, searching for something that just wasn’t there.

He’d never been nervous making one of these calls before. He’d done it too many times to count, calling people in to talk about their results. Stiles was no different. He shouldn’t have felt like this, stomach twisting itself into knots as he listened to the phone ring.

“H’lo?” Stiles sounded like he’d just woken up.

“Stiles?” Derek rolled his eyes. Of course it was Stiles.

“Yeah?”

“Uh, hi, this is Der - Doctor Hale,” Derek corrected himself quickly.

“Oh.” Stiles sounded a lot more awake now. “Right. What’s up?”

“Your test results are back,” Derek told him. “When’s a good time for you to come in to discuss them?”

Stiles could have lied. He could have said that he was busy. He could have said that he was busy forever, but he wasn’t, and he had no interest in delaying the inevitable. “I’m not doing anything right now,” he said.

Derek started. Today should have been his day off, but he hadn’t been able to resist calling about the results. He could have rescheduled, but there was a not-entirely-small part of him that wanted to see the boy again. “Okay,” he said. “Sure. Why don’t you come in in about half an hour?”

Stiles nodded, before realising that the doctor couldn’t see him. “No problem,” he said. “See you then.” He hung up the phone without waiting for a response, flopping onto his back. He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t nervous, he thought to himself, staring at the ceiling hopelessly. He knew what was coming. He knew what Doctor Hale was going to say, but he still couldn’t squash the hope that he’d say something different. He sighed, and forced himself up off the mattress.

“Stiles,” he said, passing the mirror on his way to the bathroom. “You’re dying.”

* * *

The words sounded different coming from the doctor’s mouth.

“Stiles,” Derek said. “Did you hear me? You’re dying.”

Stiles just nodded. “Okay.”

Derek stared. He’d lost count of how many people he’d seen come through this office, how many people he’d said those words to, but none of them had ever reacted like this. Defeated, before they’d even started fighting. “Okay?” he asked. “Stiles, I just told you that you’re going to die.”

Stiles shrugged. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” he said. “I’m dying. I get it, I really do. My dad is the one having trouble accepting it, but maybe once he hears it from you, it’ll sink in. I’m dying. I know.”

“Stiles. You’re nineteen, you’re - you’re supposed to fight, you’re not supposed to just lie here and accept it.”

“Technically I’m sitting,” he said, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Derek wasn’t amused.

“You’re dying, Stiles. Don’t you care? Aren’t you mad?”

“Would it make any difference if I was? Would it help me live longer?”

“Well, no,” Derek said. “But - ”

“My mom had cancer,” Stiles interrupted with a shrug. “I always figured that it would come for me too, and honestly I’m a little surprised that it took so long. I’ve had nineteen mostly good years. That’s more than I expected. It’s fine.”

“I - ” Derek didn’t know what to say, because it wasn’t fine. It just wasn’t. “Excuse me.”

He left the room quickly, closing the door firmly behind him. He knew he was being unprofessional - he’d never once left a patient before, but he hadn’t bee able to be in there any longer, trying to talk to a boy who had given up on life. Of course he’d seen patients who had given up before - as he was often a last resort, many of them had given up by the time they got to him, but they’d all been older. They’d all led relatively long, fulfilling lives. They’d been married, had kids, grandkids for some of them. Stiles was nineteen. Nineteen, and ready to die.

He took a few deep breaths, collecting himself, before stepping back into the room. Stiles hadn’t moved at all, fiddling with his phone in his lap. He glanced up as Derek entered.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Derek nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry about that.” He rounded the desk to take his seat, shuffling the papers spread out before him in an effort to keep his hands busy. “I, uh. I looked over the treatment plan your last doctor outlined, and I think as it seems to be working - the cancer hasn’t spread any, you don’t seem to be having any terrible side effects or symptoms, it might be best to keep you on that, rather than try to change you to something that might make you feel worse.”

Stiles nodded. “Sounds fine to me,” he said.

Derek fought to stay calm. The longer he spent staring at Stiles - Stiles, who was so happy to just give up, and let the sickness win, the more irritated he got. “You’ll need to come in for weekly checkups,” he said. “It would usually be fortnightly, but with your cancer as advanced as it is, I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Okay,” Stiles said.

“I’ve booked you in for Fridays, at four pm,” Derek told the boy, itching to get out of the office. “Does that work for you?”

“Yeah,” Stiles told him. “That sounds perfect.”

“Then I’ll see you next Friday,” Derek told him, standing.

“That’s all?” Stiles asked.

“Unless you have any questions,” Derek answered.

Stiles started to shake his head, but stopped himself. “I do have one, actually,” he said as he stood, walking to stand by Derek at the door.

“Shoot,” Derek told him.

“What’s your first name?”

Derek blinked. He was certain that he’d heard wrong. “Excuse me?”

“I just figured, seeing as you’re going to be my last doctor, it might be good to be on a first name basis. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he hurried to add. “I’m okay to keep calling you Doctor Hale, I just thought it might be nice.”

Derek’s forehead creased. He had a feeling that he had taken on more than he knew in Stiles, and yet, somehow he was fine with it. “Derek,” he said.

“Derek Hale,” Stiles said slowly. Derek pretended not to care about how his name sounded coming from Stiles’ mouth. Stiles’ face split into a grin. “Well then I’ll see you on Friday, Derek,” he said as he stepped out into the hall. “Four o’clock!” he called over his shoulder as he walked down the hall to where the Sheriff was waiting.

“Four o’clock,” Derek muttered to himself. He got the feeling that his Fridays were about to get a lot more interesting.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has a check-up

It wasn’t the Sheriff that brought Stiles to his next checkup. Derek stuck his head out of his office just before the appointment time came, expecting to see Stiles and his father waiting in the hall like they had been before. He was surprised to find his patient standing, not with his father, but with a boy close to his own age. He was taller than Stiles, with tan skin, a crooked jaw, and a mess of black hair. Derek couldn’t deny that he was good looking.  
He waited for Stiles to finish his conversation - although, conversation may have been too generous a term. His companion stood beside him, looking concerned, while Stiles spoke animatedly, barely pausing for breath. When he finally lulled into silence, Derek cleared his throat.

  
“Stiles?” he called. The boy whipped around to face him. “I’m ready for you.”

  
He received a mischievous grin in return as the two boys made their way down the hall to his office. Derek stopped his partner as he made to follow Stiles into the room.

“Sorry,” he apologised. “Patients only.”

  
While it was technically true, it was a clinic rule that he’d never enforced before. But there was something about the way the kid looked at Stiles that irritated him, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. For his part, Stiles remained unbothered.

  
“Sorry, man,” he shrugged. The boy retreated down the hall as Derek stepped into his office, closing the door behind him.

  
“Take a seat,” he said. Stiles obliged. “How are you feeling?”

  
Stiles shrugged. “Fine.” 

  
Derek raised an eyebrow. “Just fine?” he asked, as he took his seat behind his desk.

  
“Am I supposed to be more than fine?” Stiles replied, amusement tugging at his lips. “I am dying, you know.”

  
Derek didn’t think he’d ever get used to hearing those words coming out of his mouth so casually, but he recovered nicely from the shock. “I suppose not,” he conceded. “Anyway. That’s why you’re here.” He stood and wandered over to the examination area of his spacious office. He patted the chair loudly. “Up you get.”

  
Stiles unfolded his lanky frame from the chair and walked over to where Derek had indicated, hoisting himself up with ease.

   
“You’ve been through one of these before, I assume,” Derek said.

  
Stiles laughed. “Once or twice, yeah.”

  
“Great,” Derek said. “Then I don’t need to explain it to you.”

  
“You still could,” Stiles suggested. “I’m trying to keep notes on how different all the doctor speeches are. You’d be surprised what some don’t tell you.”

  
Derek laughed. “Alright then. Well, we’re going to do a standard physical, checking out your body - ” He paused, blushing hard as he realised what he’d said. “Seeing where we’re at in terms of the sickness,” he continued quickly, doing his very best not to look at Stiles, who was grinning at him. He cleared his throat. “How’d I do?”

  
“Hm?” Stiles asked, the question drawing his attention away from appreciating the good doctor’s damn good body.

  
“Compared to the other doctors,” Derek clarified. “Your notes?”

  
“Oh.” Stiles recovered quickly. “Good. Friendly, to the point, understandable… you’re definitely in the top five,” he said casually. There was no need to reveal that Doctor Hale had skyrocketed to his number one favourite doctor the second he’d laid eyes on him.

  
Derek laughed. “What a relief,” he said, busying himself at the station. “Let’s get this over with.”

* * *

Stiles was uncharacteristically quiet as Derek poked and prodded at him, performing tests he’s sat through way too many times before. The novelty had well and truly worn off by now, although there was definitely something to be said about tests that required the doctor’s warm hands to be sliding all over his skin. 

To his credit, Derek managed to last a lot longer than he thought he’d be able to before bringing up the boy in the hall.

  
“It’s nice of your boyfriend to be here to support you,” he began conversationally. “You’d be surprised at the amount of partners that decide they just can’t deal with something like this.”

  
Stiles choked. “My what?”

  
“Your boyfriend,” Derek repeated, his voice sounding strange to Stiles’ very observant ears.

  
“I wasn’t aware that I had one,” Stiles answered, watching the doctor for his reaction.

  
“Oh,” Derek said uncertainly. “I just thought, the guy in the hall with you… you two seemed very close, that’s all.”  
“Who, Scott?” Stiles asked, laughing. “Oh, god, no, I mean, we’ve fooled around once or twice, sure, but…” He shook his head. “No, just…” he laughed again. “Scott’s just… Scott.”

  
An unwelcome feeling of relief rushed over Derek. He must have been unsuccessful in his efforts to hide it, because Stiles grinned up at him.

  
“Were you jealous?” he asked, brown eyes sparkling with amusement.

  
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Derek muttered, not meeting his gaze. “I’m your doctor. I don’t care if you have a boyfriend.”

  
“Seemed like you cared to me,” Stiles smirked.

  
Derek rolled his eyes. He was almost certain that this kid would be the death of him. “Stop moving,” he said, wielding a needle. “I need to take some blood.”

   
Stiles’ eyes widened, and he stilled immediately.

  
“You don’t like needles?” Derek asked.

  
Stiles shook his head minimally, trying his best not to move. “You’d think with the amount of times I’ve been stuck by one it wouldn’t bother me anymore, but it’s just one of those things I never got over.”

  
“Okay, well, I need you to relax,” Derek said, swabbing at the inside of his elbow. “It’s a lot harder to take blood if you’re tense.”

  
“I’m trying,” Stiles complained.

  
“Breathe,” Derek advised him as he prepared the needle. “In and out. Deep breaths.” He waited for Stiles to comply before speaking again. “Tell me about Scott.”

  
“Scott? Again?” Stiles teased, looking anywhere but at Derek and that goddamn needle in his hand. “Do you want me to get you his number or something?”

  
Derek laughed. “I’m fine, thanks,” he said. “I imagine he’s being a pretty big help with all of this. With your dad not wanting to accept the diagnosis it must be good to have someone to talk to.”

  
Stiles nodded. “Yeah,” he said. He hissed as he felt the needle prick into his arm. “Scott’s been great. He’s helping me with my bucket list.”

  
“Here, hold this,” Derek said, holding a cotton ball to the newly created puncture in Stiles’ skin. He jolted as their hands touched, Stiles’ long fingers holding the cotton to his skin. “Your bucket list?” he asked, as he prepared the blood sample to be sent off to the lab.

  
“Yeah, you know, a list of all the stuff I want to do before I bite it,” Stiles told him, watching his broad shoulders as he labelled the blood vial.

  
“I know what a bucket list is Stiles,” he said, turning back around with a band-aid in hand. He moved Stiles’ hand gently out of the way as he placed it over the puncture. “Can I see it?” he asked curiously.

  
“My list?” Stiles asked, and Derek nodded. “Sure, I guess.”

  
He dug it out of his pocket and handed it to Derek, who surveyed the contents with increasing amounts of worry and disbelief.

  
“No way,” he said, only halfway through the list. "I cannot condone this."

  
“What?” Stiles asked. “Why not?”

  
“Why not?” Derek asked. “Because you’ll end up killing yourself with half this stuff, that’s why not!”

  
“Right,” Stiles said sarcastically. “Because I’ve got such a long life ahead of me.”

  
“Stiles that’s not funny.”

  
“I’m not joking,” Stiles told him. “I don’t want to live the rest of my life like a sad, sick person, Derek. I want to do all this stuff like I have nothing to lose, because I don’t. This is all I’ve got.”

  
Derek sighed deeply. He hated that Stiles made sense, and he hated that he couldn’t get over the way his name sounded coming out of that mouth. “Fine,” he said.

  
“Fine?” Stiles asked.

“Fine, I’ll help you,” Derek said, already knowing that he would regret this.

  
“I didn’t - I wasn’t asking for your help,” Stiles said, unsure how this was supposed to make him feel.

  
“I know,” Derek said, his attention back on the list. “But if you’re going to be - oh, god, Stiles does that say _skydiving_? - then you should at least have a doctor there to look out for you.”

  
“You’d really do that?” Stiles asked. “Help me cross all of this off?”

  
Derek shrugged. “It’s not like it could do much more harm to you. But if I say something’s off limits, you have to promise to listen to me, okay?”

  
Stiles considered. “Fine,” he agreed. “But you have to be able to provide a valid reason for why it’s off limits. And danger doesn’t count.”

  
Derek rolled his eyes. “Deal.”

  
“Great,” Stiles said, jumping down from the chair. “So is that all for today?”

  
Derek nodded. “I’ll see you next week,” he said. “Same time. We’ll discuss all the bucket list stuff then, okay?”

  
“Gotcha,” Stiles said, in a tone that said he had no intention of waiting an entire week to start crossing things off. Derek sighed.

  
“At least do relatively safe things until then,” he said, walking back to his desk. “Nothing death defying.”

  
“No promises, Doc,” Stiles said on his way out the door. “See you next week.”

  
Derek groaned, running his hands over his face as Stiles closed the door behind him. This was truly going to be the end of him. But if it could help Stiles feel like he'd lived a full life then, well, it was hard to feel like it wasn't worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knoooow it's been forever since I updated this but I found my notes for this story and decided I should finallyyyy finish it - the updates will probably be a little slow, but it will be finished!
> 
> A reminder I'm on [tumblr](http://forgetthenightlife.tumblr.com) if you wanna talk about this/suggest things for the bucket list, and if you enjoy this kinda gay nerd content please consider [buying me a coffee!](http://ko-fi.com/A507ZD8)


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